Nineteen.

Today was Sophie's nineteenth birthday, the day was lovely enough that I was able to forget, for most of the day, that it is two years today that my dad died.
There, how's that for a short and to the point post?
This day, forever the day Sophie was born and my dad died. I've taken so long to write this that it's now tomorrow anyway so ha.....null and void anyway isn't it?
Sophie was sweet today, her unpredictability is the only thing that is predictable. She is very vocal about the fact that whatever we do for her her, her birthday is crap, no-one ever cares, crap crap crap. This year, loathe to disappoint her, I didn't do anything but make her a card, help the boys to make her cards and bake a cake. I picked her up at 10.30 this morning and we went to Teignmouth, where we trawled second hand shops for anything that will make her look like a greek Goddess for a fancy dress party. She had a blast, I spent £20 and then we had lunch, she had the BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. Typical and rather surprisingly splendid.